Journal Entries
Awwww
Posted Apr 12, 2003
I used to be in a band years ago. I was a bad singer (but a good lyricist) and in the end I got kicked out. Last night, the lead guitarist from my former band played a small gig with his new outfit, and I went to see them.
The gig was good, but the best part was seeing all these people I used to know in the mid-nineties, and realise they still remembered me, even though some of them had only seen me once or twice. I bought the band's CD and they gave me another one as a gift ("There is no way you're going to pay for this" my former bandmate said, after I bought the first one for a friend), and I got him and the other founding member of the band to sign.
"To my first singer, love" said the first dedication.
"You're always so pretty" said the second one.
I found it very sweet 
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Latest reply: Apr 12, 2003
Positive vibrations needed
Posted Apr 11, 2003
Now, my Hootoo peeps, I need your positive thought. All of you, when you see this entry, concentrate...
My friend Sara got me a contact with a national publisher and I sent off all my material this morning. What I need now is for you to take a few seconds to repeat this mantra...
"I want Giulia to get a publishing deal, so I can brag about meeting an Italian writer online before she became famous!"
Seriously though, this is my first serious attempt at getting my second book out, so positive vibes (in my general direction and in the direction of the publisher) will be greatly appreciated! 
Discuss this Journal entry [118]
Latest reply: Apr 11, 2003
Hello, I'm stuck-up
Posted Apr 10, 2003
As usual, I was making the case for intelligent women having a harder time pairing off, because men (we're talking about Italian men here, I haven't a clue how it works in the rest of the world) are too insecure to be able to handle a woman whom they perceive as being smarter, more popular and more interesting then they are.
I've had that problem, I have it still. I scare men off. Can't do much about it. I can be generous with my feelings all I want, but they can't seem to handle what I consider the best traits of my personality. So it's either comply and tone myself down (and hate myself) or stick to my true self and prepare for long-term loneliness and spinsterhood. I'm choosing the latter. Personal integrity is forever.
Anyway, as I said this I was told I'm stuck-up for saying that I'm intelligent and that my former boyfriends were intimidated by it. That they probably left me because I thought I was "all that".
Cool one, that. If I say I have brown eyes, I'm tall and have long hair, people never argue that I'm making it up and I'm stuck-up for saying so. But God forbid that I say I'm intelligent, although that's something I was born with, exactly like my irises and my legs. It's not appropriate to say that. It sounds scandalous, especially for a woman, to proclaim she has wits and is unafraid to use them. Better still, to show them.
Hello, I'm stuck-up.
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Latest reply: Apr 10, 2003
Roll the ball
Posted Apr 1, 2003
Last night I went home, printed out three copies of the first chapter of my latest novel and a cover letter, and put them in three envelopes addressed to three of the many publishers in Italy who may potentially be interested in my work. Then I e-mailed a colleague's friend, who works in Rome and is the person in charge of writing out book reports for publishers.
This morning I sent the envelopes off and got an e-mail back from the guy, who says OK, send it this way.
Dreaming is all good and well, but dreaming won't get me anywhere. Action is where it's at. I know I'm good, good enough to enjoy national publication and be a real writer. I know I can do it. But nobody can do it for me.
So no more boys. It'll be words from now on and until further notice.
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Latest reply: Apr 1, 2003
Just like me
Posted Mar 31, 2003
What a mad, bad, wicked weekend I've had. I travelled seven hours on Friday night to see an old mate from University I used to fancy a lot, thinking the sexual tension would finally be resolved.
Just like me to turn him down gently when it came to the clinch, and develop a humongous crush on his fleabag dramboat of a flatmate. The Saturday and Sunday could've been filmed by an Australian director. The dialogue was so witty it could've been scripted, the moments pitch-perfect. Like we were taking turns lying side by side on the bed, drinking and spilling wine all over the sheets and getting ready for an equally pitch-perfect night out.
Mighty Aphrodite, oh you goddess of the unexpected, thank you for showing me that there will be more boys, more crushes, more perfect moments.
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Latest reply: Mar 31, 2003
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